


The Beforan Handmaid's tale

by Shitfacedanon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drug Use, Exposition, F/M, Fluff, Minor Violence, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shitfacedanon/pseuds/Shitfacedanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To most of her "friends" she was a vile little thing. A petty hate filled witch who caused them nothing but misery and who deserved their ire and animosity.</p><p>Yet for all their judgement, they never bothered to ask why. Why she hated them so, why she ruined their game.  What drove her to this?</p><p>This is the tale of how and why Damara came to be the witch of time and the events of her ruination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

She took a drag of her blunt. The fumes tasted acrid and unpleasant at first, yet soon grew into a sweet tasting aroma. Sweet to her at least, to anyone else, it’s just a bitter noxious stench that clogs the air nearly as much as her hostility does. 

Not that she really cared, no Damara never cared much anymore what the others felt towards her. All of them had wrong or slighted her beyond the point of redemption now, and if not they then her own infinitely simmering animosity certainly had. Usually she’d keep to herself, only bothering to put the faintest of effort to interact with them, typically at their initiation.

But today- an odd term when one was to consider the most peculiar and fluid rules that governed time and space in the dead realm she and the others resided in- today, she hadn't the energy for it. 

She knew not what caused this stronger than usual antipathy to interaction. Nothing had triggered any sudden influx of unpleasant thoughts, at least nothing she was aware of. And she had not met or spoke to any of them today, so her typically sour mood had not been ruined; what little there was to ruin anyway. 

Something, something she couldn't quite describe, seemed to stir within her. It nagged at her, like some forgotten idea, not important enough to worry over, yet enough to refuse mercy of forgetfulness. Like a spare chore or errand or event. It was a foggy thing that clouded her thoughts and mood ever since she “woke” up that morning. Or was it night? Time, even for a witch of the stuff, was as ever confusing and irritatingly unstatic in this incorporeal land. 

All she knew was that there was something she was meant to remember yet for whatever reason, could not. It also drained her energy, as well as her drive. She just wanted to be alone for awhile, perhaps several whiles even. Just long enough so she could determine what this nagging gnat of a thought was on about. Maybe that was the issue; she just wanted to be alone. But she mostly was anyway wasn’t she?

So why did this time seem more intense than typical? No, simply being alone wasn't enough. She needed to be away from them, separate, detached. Not even the potential of their presence could be tolerated. Wanting some extra solitude, Damara ventured to a particularly private dreambubble, one only she knew. Or at least only knew how to find.

It was a memory, of her old home, before she met Rufioh. When she had first set foot on the then unfamiliar country she was to call her new home. The vast trees, purple in complexion and blue in their canopies. A thick forest littered with flora and fauna that at first, enchanted her. Beautiful birds and magical flowers that would periodically give out sing song and during more troubled times lull her to sleep or calm her. Her hive then was a small unremarkable thing. A tiny maroon shack nestled at the bottom of a more thick redwood. 

Yet, as ramshackle as it had been, she treasured it. It gave her a feeling of certainly, a marker to cling to of sorts. Whenever she felt sad or mad or most of all, uncertain of the future, she could always return here, and clear her mind. It was far less a sore for the eyes on the inside than outside. It might never have been much, but she made it her own. She had coated the walls with posters of her favorite little things, and had painted the inside red, her favorite color. She had adorned it with little knick-knacks of whatever grabbed her interest. But what she treasured most was a small little green grub-top. It was her little portal, a window to the outside world where she could explore new places, waste hours filling her mind with whatever then captivated her interest, and even meet new people; when she could gather the courage to make herself known that is. Sure she would probably never meet any of these people in person, and of course she’d never see or feel any of these things she saw, or do any of the wondrous and seemingly fun activities she witnessed. But to her, in that small room all to herself, it felt real to her. Everything did. These people she met and chatted with, even if only for a short time, were as much friends to her as any supposed real friends. What did it matter if she couldn't shake their hand or hear their voice? She was content to simply have what little she did, to her that made it all the more valuable. And all the more real.

How ironic to her now that she actually could relive any memories, see any place again, it would all feel so fake?

She looked at her little red shack. It had been ages since she had last ventured into this little memory. Her old home, once so vibrant seemed so dull now. She craned her neck upwards. The birds seemed less chipper as well, their song blander, more random, just a series of chirps and peeps. Not the lovely music she remembered. Even the grass looked beaten, it was patchy, dead looking, not the lively color filled carpet she would rest herself on at times. 

Had it always been like this? Had things always been this dreary and she merely hadn’t noticed it then? Or were her own downtrodden feelings affecting the mood of this place as well? She shrugged and ventured into her beaten home. 

The door creaked loudly as she pushed it open, just as it always did, just like she remembered. She glanced around, everything looked… bare. Most of the paint had flecked off, and what remained had become faded. Her little knick-knacks and other personal treasures looked ragged and beaten. Not the meticulously maintained gifts she recalled. Had they too always been grimy? Had her hopeful mind merely fooled her then into believing they were more then she remembered? Solemnly she walked to a mattress; she could never afford a recoupacoon, and fell to it. 

She looked at her surroundings, drinking in the bitter details. She had loved this place, dirty as it had been. A hollow melancholic feeling began to well up within her as she let nostalgia roll over her. She missed this hive, she missed this time of her life, when she had distant friends to keep her company, and video games and tv shows to entertain her. Sure, she barely had much then, but at least she had been happy. Though, not as happy as when she had been hitched to Rufioh. 

But those memories were ruined by his infidelity. All those kind words that sent her heart swooning, every kiss and hug, each moment, they all had driven her to heights of joy and serenity she'd never thought she ever experience.

And he cheated on her. And then dumped her. 

She always wondered why. Damara had racked her brain trying to pick apart the reasons. But nothing would ever satisfy. And it just made her hate him more for it. 

But. It also spoiled those happy memories of them. How much of that joy was real after all? In the end did he really ever mean anything? Had he lied? She had given up trying to find out, why bother? It would just dredge up bitter feelings and then she’d let those unpleasant little thoughts overwhelm her. The little mental poison that caused her to sob and hate herself. 

Then, little by little a slow realization hit her. She finally knew what had been nagging at the back of her mind, what lost thought had eluded her. It was the anniversary of her breakup. Every day since she had embraced her role as Witch of time, she always knew, perhaps not immediately so, but when the memory dredged itself back up, she always knew exactly how much time had passed. 

To be a time player was both a blessing and curse. Being one meant access to the full knowledge of the timeline and all its possibilities. For some, such a thing was a wondrous boon filled with potential.

Yet for someone who wanted to forget, someone like Damara, it was a just another spiteful indicator that the universe hated her. As a witch of time she could relive any moment or memory in her life with perfect and uncensored clarity. A fact she despised. The moment she recalled an event, it would overwhelm her. All little details, every single minute thing, they would flood her when she was unprepared for it. Most of the time she could easily control it's flow, yet during more emotional moments, times when painful recollections stung her heart, her mastery was weakened.

And the majority of her life had been mostly nothing but one bad memory after another. Day in, day out of crushing loneliness, being relentlessly bullied her whole life by some untouchable bastard or bitch, or being teased and made fun of by her so called friends. 

Even when she left her old home in east Beforus, things had only marginally improved. Only when she met and began to date Rufioh did she ever truly begin to feel happy. And even then briefly so. 

Suddenly the memories of those times began to flood her mind. Her dreamscape shifted and altered itself to match the environs of that moment. And then she was there, reliving it all over again. The day she met him. It was all so clear to her…


	2. Bark at the moon

A dark forest, lights flickering in the canopy above. The sound of whooping and crowing. A faint excited _Bang-ar-rang!_ She was walking aimlessly, slightly lost. The leafy ceiling was polluted with the candles and other fixtures of their dwellers. The lost boys were their name. She had heard many rumors of them, grandiose tales and small gossip both. Yet tales were all she had, not once had she been visited in person by any of them.

A owl hooted and she flinched in response. Damara cursed her timid nature and mentally chastised herself for being lost. She’d lived in this forest for how long now? She shouldn't be lost. It just wasn't a thing that happened.

Yet it was and in that moment she began to feel afraid. She’d been walking for nearly an hour now, at least it felt like so, all trying to find her way back home.

She shivered and hugged herself, both to warm herself and try to comfort herself.

A twig gave out a loud _snap_ near her and she froze. Her heart raced and her body felt cold.

“H-HELLO?” She called out to it. “ANY THERE?” Yet nothing replied. Her eyes widened, Damara’s vision darted from place to place, trying to make out any potential attacker. She saw nothing but could feel, nay, _sense_ something hiding in the dark. Some dangerous force that held hostile intentions for her. Its unseen presence wracked her nerves and set her on edge.

Mustering every ounce of will, she dragged her leg forward and slowly marched, still on guard for anything. Another loud _snap_ gave out in the foliage, yet Damara continued to pace slowly, her muscles taught and her nerves stretched thin. She wanted to run, but could not, too paralyzed by fear and indecision. What if it ran after her? What if it could outrun her? What if it was nothing at all even?

Another rustle gave out, and Damara shot a look at its suspected origin.

“HELLO?”

Once more, only silence was given.

“HELLO? PLEASE IF YOU THERE. COME OUT SO CAN SEE.” Slowly she backed up, not once taking her eyes off the bushes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention and involuntarily she began to pant quietly.

Another rustle gave out, and Damara gasped in surprise. This time however, she could make out something. Some formless shape, dark and without details. An animal or monster of some sort. Whatever it was she did not wish to find out. Mentally she prayed for it to leave, begged whatever divine force existed to spare her from this thing.

Then it appeared. A silhouette of some canine looking beast leaped from the foliage, and darted towards her. Damara shrieked and ran from it. As she fled she screamed for help, her legs ached and her lungs burned. Her sprint fueled by pure terror and instinct.

The thing raced after her. Though she was surprisingly fast, it was simply faster. It swung at her, missing her by only an inch. Yet she felt the whoosh of air brush against her back and pushed herself harder. She needed to get away from this _thing_.

The beast continued to give chase, closing the distance easily and cleaving it’s talons at her, shredding the back of her maroon shirt and causing her to tumble to the ground. She crawled, begging it to spare her. Tears streamed freely down her face, Damara muttering incoherently out of pure fear of death.

The thing grasped her ankle, and yanked her underneath itself. Damara twisted on to her back and looked it right in the face.

It was a hideous monster. It’s mouth a cave of sharp dagger like teeth, dripping with spittle and trails of drool. It was big enough to eat her whole if it wished. It gave out a deafening roar, coating her in beads of foam. Damara matched it with an ear piercing scream of terror. She raised her hands in defense, though knew it would do her no good. She had nothing to fend this monster off with. She was as good as dead already. Slowly it raised its head, its massive maw of a mouth widened slowly.

Damara sobbed, begging for someone to save her. But who would in this forest? The beast jolted its jaw down on her and Damara closed her eyes…

But nothing happened. A second passed and a loud _thud_ was heard, followed by a piercing “BANG-AR-RAAAAANNNNGGGG!!!!!”

She opened her eyes and saw a boy dressed in red and black leather fend off the monster. It swung at him, yet the boy ducked and landed a punch on its muzzle. It gave out a pained yelp and roared at him in frustration for having denied it its meal.

It lunged at the boy yet he leaped into the air and spun, catching the beast by the hair on its shoulders and kicking its legs out from under it. It fell to its back, the boy rolling out of the way just in the nick of time. As the creature stirred the boy leapt into the air and as he landed slammed his heels into its gut, knocking the wind out of it.

Weakly it batted him yet the boy simply skipped away. He glanced at Damara.

“yo doll, you okay?” Damara nodded a yes. The beast shook its head and stood once more, its sides clutched in pain. The boy pulled a golden blade from his hip, twirling it mockingly at the beast. It shimmered in the moonlight, like light made into solid metal.

The two fighters raced at one another. The boy rolled onto his knee, lashing at the creature with his sword as it missed his red streaked head. It howled in pain and brought its mighty jaws down to eviscerate him, but the boy rolled between its open legs and slashed the beast’s upper thigh underneath. It released a might howl and turned towards him, its claws pelting at him desperately. The Boy put distance between the two of them and laughed. This was no fight, but play for him. He might as well have tied an arm to his back to even things between the two of them.

Damara sat entranced by him. He toyed with the giant lumbering beast, his sword and him dancing gracefully as if in ballet, the monster in turn missing him with each awkward slow swipe or bite. The boy would laugh or mock the beast with each failed attempt at his life. He would land a blow or cut on the creature but none were fatal, though whether this was because her savior was holding back or because the beast was simply that tough she did not know.

The boy continued his jest, his body twirled and bounced around the thing. It swiped at him yet the boy parried in turn, he ducked and spun on his heel. His sword trailed behind him, slicing at the beast’s now bleeding stomach and then at its neck in one swirling attack. The reflected light danced as well, it too was a partner in this theater, the boy and his blade danced and it followed, the trio like one being working in unison.

Finally the two stopped. The boy was a short distance from the monster; he looked flush with enthusiasm and not even tired. The wolf like thing however was tired, beaten, and bloody.

The boy’s sword was pointed downward and he pranced towards the creature and swung his blade at it, only to stop mere inches from its muzzle.

“You’re dead. wolfman.” The boy said. The creature yelped in terror and fled.

He turned to Damara and as he sheathed his weapon walked to her.

“doll you shouldn’t be out this time. Lots of dangerous stuff out there. Well, like that thing for example.” He said, his arm raised and pointed towards the direction the beast ran for emphasis.

Damara panted silently. The chase had drained her both physically and mentally, yet even that had not been why she remained glued to the forest floor. No it was this boy, her savior, her hero. He was what stole her breath and words away. She tried to speak up yet found the words stalled, as if she forgot how to talk. She gazed at him. Even in the dark his features were gorgeous to her, and shaded by the absence of light, it gave them a hauntingly beautiful quality.

He was coated in a black vest adorned with small bones; underneath that was another black tee with a brown symbol of some sort, under it looked to be a red shirt with frayed sleeves. His horns were horizontally long and curved upwards like that of a bull. And his hair, it was the most alluring and notable of his features. Spiked back and tipped with bright red dye; the same as her favorite color, with pitch black roots. It was wild and exotic and it awed her.

“You okay? You look out of it. That thing didn’t hurt you did it?” The boy asked, a look of concern on his face. He rested on a knee and held her by her shoulder. Damara flinched slightly at his touch, jolted out of her indulgent stupor.

“My name’s Rufioh by the way.” He said as he looked her over for any injuries.

“DAMARA.” She said back. Her face blushed in embarrassment at her exposed state as she averted her eyes. The boy’s touch was not unwelcome to her, especially in comparison to her previous malcontent suitor, yet a hermit’s lifestyle and her own natural shyness made her act timid in the face of even small physical intimacy.

“Well Damara, I think it would be wise if you headed home.”

“CAN’T FIND. LOST.”

Rufioh scratched his chin in contemplation and stood. “That is a problem. And with how late it is, I don’t think we’ll find your place soon enough.”

He snapped his fingers, and his face brightened, a golden nugget of an idea caught by his mind.

“Hey why don’t you stay at my place for the night? You can rest up, and I’ll help you find your home in the morning! That sound good?”

Damara nodded enthusiastically, anything was better than being in the forest, even with a guest by her side, she wanted nothing more to do with it for the rest of the night. Rufioh exploded in joy, his arms raised in triumph and his face beaming.

“Awesome! It’ll be great, I promise! We’ll get you some replacement clothes, we’ll watch all kinds of anime, and have fun parties and I’ll even teach you how to crow! If you want that is.” He said.

“CROW?” Damara asked.

“Yeah crow! It’s a special thing only the lost Weeaboos can do. A special call of sorts that ever prospective members of the tribe of weeaboos must learn to do if they wish to be a member. I’ll teach you how to crow, that way you can be a member if you want.” The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious and even in her cold and weak state, Damara couldn't help but smile and feel empowered by him. Weakly she tried to stand but as she rose, her leg buckled underneath her. Luckily Rufioh caught her just in time; his catch inadvertently brought her into a hug of sorts, a lone arm wrapped around her waist and her chest pressed against his. Damara blushed and felt weak but loved every second of it.

“Whoops! Looks like your leg got all mess up. Don’t worry we’ll get that fixed up too. Now let’s get out of here!”

Suddenly a burst of glittering light exploded from his back, a pair of butterfly wings now unfurled. They fluttered briefly before they began to push the two into the air. Rufioh held Damara close as they ascended and she in turn wrapped her arms around him. Though Rufioh could not see it, her face looked at him with the deepest sense of longing.

The two entered the leafy rooftop of the forest, into the domain of the lost boys.

The pair pushed through the leaves, Rufioh shielded Damara from the brunt of it, yet he did not stop. He continued his ascent, lifting onward above the trees, above the forest itself.

Damara held her eyes closed as the pair were elevated. When she craned them, she gasped at what she saw. All before her was the vast sprawling landscape that was the forest, stretched to the horizon and beyond. She knew it was large, yet never before had she truly comprehended its sheer monumental scale. She felt insignificant by the enormity of it.

Adjacent to the forest was a moon-lit glittering sea that in the darkness looked as a blanket of deep blue resting above a flat smooth surface. The tapestry of stars above reflected off its surface, creating an opaque mirror like image hazed by the shifting waves.

Below them resting in the forest canopy were scattering concentrations of lights spread far from one another. Rufioh looked at them in search for a particular one, and when he looked satisfied, dived towards it. Damara held him close, afraid at first of the sudden decent. Yet the brush of wind through her hair and the whoosh of the wind kissing her ears forced her eyes open in curiosity. When she did she felt enchanted once more as a rush of excitement rose within her. This night had in a instance gone from a terrible nightmare to a soaring dream she wanted to never end. And all because of this boy.

As he neared the roof of the forest trees he arched their path into a sudden upwards angle and then stopped into a slow hovering decent. His wings beated quietly like those of a dragonfly and as they entered the dwelling Damara could hear the excited clamor of celebrations and festivities.

“Seems like a special night tonight. I think we couldn’t have picked a better time to meet.” Rufioh said.

As they met the bamboo tied floor a clamoring of young children dressed in similarly ad-hoc outfits like that of Rufioh’s surrounded the pair. Small groups murmured to themselves, each lost in conversation as to the red clad guest their winged comrade had brought. Several of the lost boys not in on the hushed discussions tip-toed over the heads of their fellows, eager to get a good look at the duo. Damara felt as if hundreds of eyes were fixed on her and out of embarrassment, blushed.

When his feet firmly touched the floor, Rufioh lowered his grip and helped her to her feet. Clearing his throat, he raised his hands to silence the deafening cacophony of voices, Damara stayed close to him.

“Yo lost boys! Listen up. You all remember that howlbeast that was messing with us earlier? Well you’ll never guess who I met while I was scouting about the forest.”

“Who was it Rufioh? Was it that girl? Is she the howlbeast?” A stream of voices asked him; Rufioh raised him arms once more to calm them.

“Guys give me a sec or two and I’ll explain for ya. First off, no this girl here ain’t the howlbeast. And second the howlbeast was who I met. He was harassing this girl here, thinking she’d make a nice dinner. And as luck would have it, right as he started chasing her, I managed to spot him and stop him from eating her right up.”

A hushed collective of awed gasps and oo's gave out. The lost boys turned to one another and continued their gossip, this time more excitedly.

“I fought the thing off, and managed to beat him pretty bad. But it ran off before I could finish him off. Anyway, this girl here is called Damara, and she’s lost currently. So she’ll be staying the night with us. That means everyone treat her nice and right, you got me?” The lost boys shook their heads.

“Hi Damara! Welcome to the lost boys!” A young boy called out to her. Damara waved meekly to the crowd.

“So you know what that means boys?” Rufioh asked, his posture hunched and his hands out as his head darted from lost boy to lost boy. He looked excited.

“We’re gonna make her all nice and comfortable! Treat her like she’s one of our own!”

“Will we show her our anime and teach her to crow?” A child asked. Rufioh pointed to him, a wild smile on his face.

“You bet! Tonight boys we celebrate! A welcoming party dedicated to our newest prospective member. Oh but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Rufioh slapped his forehead and shook his head in disbelief. He turned to Damara.

“I haven’t even asked our guest what she feels on all this. What do you think Damara? Wanna join our tribe?” Damara looked around and then back to Rufioh. She felt uncertain, all this was happening so fast and she felt pressured yet interested all the same. The lost weeaboos had always sounded intriguing, and seeing them in person made it all the more appealing. But she felt a tinge of doubt pull at her. Little thoughts littered her mind all telling her not to join. But a small and strong part of her said otherwise. To at least give one nights effort a try and see what they really were all about. Who knows? Perhaps she’d like it. Maybe even make a friend or two. She looked to the floor and pondered briefly and came to a decision.

“NOT SURE. MAYBE TRY IT TO SEE IF LIKE?”

Rufioh looked a bit disappointed but cheered up quickly.

“Ah well.” He said as he shrugged, several weeaboos sounding equally disappointed. “You know what guys? Let’s celebrate anyway! Let’s give Damara here a night she’ll never forget. Maybe we can help change her mind.” Rufioh grasped her by the hand and dragged her softly out of the room towards a central walkway. Before he and her left he turned back to the crowd.

“Oh yeah, send a few scouts down to deal with the howlbeast. Can’t be too far. I managed to wound it quite a bit but be careful. And send a call out to begin preparations for a party, boys!”

He turned back towards the path, the group erupting into a deafening cheer as Damara and he left. Slowly he led her along the path and into a lone hut.

“Let’s stop by my place for a bit.” He said before they entered.

As they entered he let go of her wrist and walked to a cupboard and turned to Damara.

“Hey, listen.” He said. His voice sounded nervous and he looked embarrassed.

“I kinda feel as if I’m sorta pushing you into something you don’t really want to do. I mean we just met and such and already I’m asking you to join my little tribe here. And plus here I am dragging you into my room even. So uh, like if I’m making you feel uncomfortable or anything, please let me know. I mean, sorry, I just get all excited at times and kinda let my mind and mouth wander like an idiot. So if you like, want to just spend the night alone and rest or something till tomorrow you can sleep here and I’ll stay somewhere else.”

Damara raised her hands in protest at his suggestion.

“NO IT FINE. I WANT THIS.”

“Oh, good then, uh I guess.” Rufioh looked relived. He turned back to the cupboard and pulled a drawer open and rummaged through some clothes. Upon finding some to his approval, he walked to Damara and handed them to her.

“Here. I noticed your shirt got messed up bad, you can borrow this for the night if you want.”

Grabbing them, she looked at his offering. The outfit was a frayed ragged mess of a short black shirt with a red layer underneath it and a small black leather jacket that covered both. It looked odd to her yet not wanting to come off as rude, she forced a grateful smile to her face.

Rufioh was nervous once more. A lone hand hugged the back of his neck and his head twisted from side to side as if his muscles were sore.

“Yeah sorry, not much. But it works for me. Though uh, I guess it might not. For you. Shit that sounds dumb of me.” Damara tittered at his comment, her fallacious smile a genuine one now. She observed the clothes once more and found them more welcoming to her tastes.

“I LIKE. NOW GO. I CHANGE.” She said, and shooed him off.

She removed her shirt and upon the discovery of a nasty looking yet scarred wound upon her right hip, dropped the rest of them and searched for a mirror. She gasped silently at the sight of herself. Her back was torn up, deep gouges lining her back from her shoulder to her hip. She winced and cringed at the grisliness of it. She hadn’t felt a thing when the beast had swiped her, fear and adrenaline had numbed her.

Hesitantly she brought a finger to the blood caked line and winced softly at its burn. Mercifully it wasn't too intolerable. Damara wondered then if she should ask for some medical supplies, something to dress the wound with. Yet she then decided against it. She already felt she had put upon Rufioh enough as it was, timid as always, Damara simply decided she’d just try not to rest on her back. It didn't hurt otherwise.

She dressed herself and gave her appearance a once over. It was a curious little ensemble, not terrible, yet so out of place with her in it. The shirt, even when she had tried to stretch it a bit, had only reached her upper midriff and left a small portion of flesh exposed. She felt embarrassed and self conscious over it and with her clashing red skirt made her feel extra anxious. She had always worn her outfits for the modesty they offered.

Yet after a brief moment it began to grow on her. It gave her an alluring quality of sorts and for her own amusement she posed like a model and tittered at the ridiculousness of it all. She, the shy little timid thing a model? Yet it was nice to feel confidant for a change even if it was absurd in her mind as well.

Once she had finished gawking over herself, Damara stepped out from the hut. She put as much confidence to her steps and acted as if she was some jungle Amazon queen, strong and determined and with no peer or rival.

And then upon her eyes meeting Rufioh’s she felt the faux strength drain from her. This was a mistake, she just knew it. She looked absurd in her mind and almost turned right back.

Yet Rufioh smiled when he saw her. That small gesture put some pep back in her step.

“You look good.” He said. Damara sighed in relief. She thanked him for his comment and with her arm outstretched in invitation, the pair made their way to the festivities.

***

The night began with a clamor of gossip and clusters of discussion. Settled on a long table littered with dishes of grand feasts and wooden goblets of drink. Everyone was immersed in their own conversations, only to cease when Rufioh arrived. Damara had felt only momentarily safe in his presence. She knew she had nothing to fear yet her accursed anxiety made her feel as if she was like a deer in the headlights.

The lost weeaboos however had proven far more hospitable than she had initially given thought to. They begged and asked her to regal them with the tail of how she and Rufioh had met. And she told them. Flustered at first. Yet the children instead of finding it droll, screamed in excitement. They hung on her every word, tossing her excited gasps and cheers when she described this event or that moment as best she could. The younger children were particularly more engrossed and begged her in their high pitched voiced to tell it again, and each time they screamed in awe more strongly. They cheered her on, and treated her as one of their own. And Damara felt the anxiety that had so often stymied her sociability slowly ebb away.

Then the feast happened. It was a grand thing, even for a collective of children and teenagers settled in the wilderness, it impressed her. Massive plates crushed under by giant birds lathered in gravy and spices. Immense bowls of fruits and vegetables of all sorts and stripes coated in rich bountiful dressing. Side dishes of thick loafs of bread with chunks of steaming melting butter. It was a feast of feasts, the sort only high blood nobility would eat. For a low class maroon such as herself to not just see such mouth watering sights, but to be granted the chance to eat it all, it sent her to heights of joy and bliss. The boys feasted like pigs, their faces stuffed and coated in crumbs and smears of sauces and dressings.

And Damara joined them, hesitantly at first, yet when she timidly brought a leg of cluckbeast to her mouth she was chastised.

“Nonono. You don’t eat it like that girl.” The boy had said. “You eat it like THIS!” And excitedly he ripped the strips of meat free like a hungry animal. Damara had looked back at her portion and copied his motion, awkwardly at first, and then eagerly when some weeaboos adjacent from her cheered her on.

“EAT! EAT! EAT! EAT!” They had chanted. And Damara did. She ripped the leg apart like a rapid beast and the children erupted in ecstatic jubilation. A massive two handed goblet of drink was brought to her and as before the boys cheered her on, chanting her name as she excitedly lapped it up, only to stop once she had finished. The entire feast she was treated like royalty, better than royalty, she was treated as an equal. No one mocked her for her accent, or her looks, or her mannerisms. They lauded her and in that moment, Damara felt loved. She felt happy. She felt normal.

Once the feast had ended, they gathered to a grand hall filled with video games and dvds of various anime. The rest of the night they frittered away the hours playing or watching. And as before they encouraged Damara to join in the activities. But unlike before, she felt no hesitation, no she leaped in eagerly. She played their games and felt her heart soar. When she won a match the boys exploded in joy and cheered her name. When she lost, she did not feel the drive to play again drain from her like she would so often, no she merely felt herself ever more determined and fought on ten times harder.

Soon the hours passed, and evening turned to night and night to midnight. And in time everyone began to settle and relieve themselves for the night. Each wishing Damara well as they offered her congrats for her hard won victories.

And like that it had ended. Everyone, including her and Rufioh returned to their respective dwellings, each exhausted, yet filled, fat, and happy. As Damara and Rufioh laughed and chatted their way to his hive, Damara knew what her answer would be. She would join them. She would be a lost weeaboo. She felt a sense of contentment wash over her and chastised herself. All these sweeps she could have enjoyed such fun, yet never had. All because of some silly shyness. Well no longer she declared. She would change, she would be more confident, more assertive. She would never be the timid little girl she had always been. Lost girls weren't shy or timid. They were strong and without fear.

She collapsed into Rufioh's recoupacoon, exhausted and content. As she drifted off to sleep, she made a promise. Never again would she let herself be pushed around, either by others, or most of all, herself.

She awoke the next morning, and thanked Rufioh and the lost weeaboos for the rapturous night. Afterwards Rufioh had escorted her home. Luckily the search for Damara’s hive had been lessened considerably due to the efforts of the tribe members who had found it during their ultimately successful hunt of the monster wolfbeast.

As she entered her hive, she gave her thanks to him. He gave his welcome and nodded and turned to leave. Right before his wings unfurled themselves, Damara tugged on his shirt and when he turned to face her, she pecked his cheek with a light kiss and gave him her answer.

“YES. I JOIN.” She said. Rufioh was momentarily speechless and like the awkward dork he had been the night before, he smiled and muttered his thanks. He told her he would meet her again tomorrow if she wasn't busy and formally and officially initiate her into the tribe. Damara agreed and as he fluttered away she ran into her hive and squealed in joy, her face pressed into a pillow as she rested on her bed.

She pulled it free and smiled contently. She rose from her bed and as she walked, the house’s details and features shifted once again, forming into Rufioh’s hive. He was there, Damara sitting adjacent from him. It was another memory, this one two weeks, three days, and five hours roughly from the moment he had dropped her off after their first night together.


	3. Prisoner of your eyes

She had been inducted into the tribe of the lost weeaboos with great fanfare, after which she underwent a series of trials in order to become a full fledged member. Most of them had been easy by even more stringent standards; the majority of them consisting of mostly being able to party or play video games or know useless trivia to certain anime.

 

The only thing that had proven difficult was, fittingly, the most critical of the requirements. Being able to crow. It was seen by the lost weeaboos as a sign of membership. Only true lost boys and girls could crow.

 

And for that last week she had struggled with it. It was not that she couldn't make the sound. No Damara could easily do that. It was that she couldn't put the power into the caw, that _umph_ that made it bellow and carry far and wide. Her voice simply wasn't powerful enough; her crowing would always end up as some awkward timid creaking thing like a sickly bird or nails on a chalkboard.

 

The entire time Rufioh had tried to teach her or help her practice and throughout that time the pair had grown close. They had at first merely acted as good friends. Spending as much time together while they learned more of each other. Damara would share her hobbies and her past life in east Beforus and Rufioh would tell her of his time as a dorky teen who fumbled through pupation.

 

And with each passing day they felt a bond begin to form. Something that went beyond simple friendship or even that pale platonic morialegence. It was something stronger, more intense.

 

It was love. Or matespriteship, that red flushed burning desire of intense infatuation. Damara had been the first of the two to realize it. It had started as a slow realization that grew into sudden enlightened understanding. She had been curiously enough, mulling over her feelings and had struggled to make sense of them. She knew she felt a sense of intense longing towards him whenever in his presence, and her heart hurt so sweetly at the thought of being his. Why some afternoons she would find herself wistfully day dreaming of her and him acting as some couple in courtship only to shake such thoughts from her head and consider them absurd.

 

Yet the more she forced them to leave, the stronger they came back. Each time driving her to greater fits of frustration.

 

Then that moment happened, that realizing spark of enlightenment. One day she had walked to him and nearly greeted him with a kiss. Her mind was wandering as she saw him and when he approached she pressed her puckered lips near to his and then immediately stopped once the realization of what she was about to do hit her. Awkwardly she had attempted to defuse the situation by playing it off as a joke, her fingers formed into a facsimile of a pair of pistols and her face twisted into a nervous smile as she clicked her tongue. Then without another word she ran off.

 

She disappeared to someplace private and collapsed. She knew then. Damara realized that she couldn’t deny what her feelings had all but screamed to her. She loved Rufioh. She admitted the words to herself and the weight of the confession hit her into a numbing stupor. She felt sick, she felt faint, and she felt like sobbing. It was all so stupid to her. He was her friend and she was happy with that, why did she have to love him as well? Why she did have to be greedy and want more of him?

 

She hated herself a little bit in that moment. After the friendship she and him had built up and she had to go and ruin it with a fleeting crush. Damara shook her head in disbelief, pressed her hands to her temples and let her mind wander.

 

Questions raced through her.

 

_What should I do next?_

 

_Should I tell him anything?_

 

_What if he says no?_

 

Her stomach twisted at that question. She couldn't bear to deal with that response. But then a worse question popped into being.

 

_What if he says yes?_

 

What if he did indeed? What would she do then? Damara didn't know. She loved him yes, but what if he actually did feel the same and what if he returned her affections? To deny her feelings would kill her. But what would occur if she acquiesced to them instead?

 

_What if he says yes. And it does not work out?_ To her that was the worst possible outcome. She’d give him her heart and then lose it and him in the process. For a brief minute Damara wallowed in her own self pity and let every horrible possibility and thought comb over her.

 

But then, as if to clear the air, a faint voice called out to her from within.

 

_No. No, what am I doing? This is not you. This is not me. I am Damara. I promised I would not be pushed around anymore. Not by anyone. Not even myself.  I Promised. Remember?_

 

“<I promised.>” She said to herself. Her face slumped into her knees.

 

_And here I am whimpering like a child. This is not how a lost weeaboo behaves._ Damara’s fists tightened.

 

_A lost weeaboo does not fear. A lost weeaboo fights. They fight the fear. Will I fight this fear? Or will I give in to it?_

 

“<I will not.>” She said louder this time. Both her fists were balled tightly and trembled.

 

_I will fight. I will fight this fear and I will fulfill my promise!_ She slammed her fists hard against the floor and felt a rush of power and confidence. Damara jolted to her feet.

 

_I will confess to Rufioh! I will tell him I love him! No matter what happens I’ll accept the consequences!_ Her head held high and a fierce look of determination on her face, Damara stomped firmly on the floor. With a renewed sense of purpose she marched to her hut, her face now sporting a more pleasant smile.

 

“<I love you Rufioh!>” She called out triumphantly.

 

_And I know just how I’ll tell you!_ And with that, she began to form a little plan, her dreamscape altering with her steps.

 

 

The walkway shifted to Rufioh’s room. It was two days after Damara had awkwardly attempted to kiss him. She sat on a couch, her legs crossed and her fingers twiddling. She was alone and waiting for him and though she would not show it, she was nervous.

 

She gulped and her heart thumbed hard within her, so much so that she could faintly hear it’s drumming in her ears.

 

_Be calm Damara. Just stay calm. You can do this girl. Just remember the plan and everything will work out._

 

Her eyes darted around Rufioh’s hut. She had been in here before many times yet never had she felt so out of place. She got to her feet and walked to a mirror and looked herself over, fixing any flaws in her appearance, then she eyed her face.

 

_Everything will work out. You can do this. Believe in yourself._

 

She then put on her best, most confident smile and let out a firm sigh as if to push out any remaining doubt.

 

A clattering of footsteps on bamboo wood could then be heard in the distance. She quickly dusted her clothes off and turned to the entrance way and held her head high. This was the moment of truth. She had spent every waking hour of the past few days training herself for this. This day, this moment would be more than an admission to her. It would be a culmination of many things and she could not muck this up.

 

Rufioh stepped into his hut and immediately took notice of her.

 

“oh hey doll.” He said, a light chuckle following his words.

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Not after that, uh, well you know.”

 

“SORRY FOR THAT.” Damara said, her eyes cast downwards in embarrassment. She moved towards him, her hands held behind her.

 

“It’s fine, just caught me off guard. Uh, so how you doing Damara?”

 

“IT GOOD. BEEN PRACTICING.”

 

“Oh?” Rufioh said, a lone curious eyebrow raised. “And what would that be? A certain call of sorts I hope.” His face held an amused look and Damara marched towards him with a wide eager smile of her own.

 

_Here goes everything and nothing I guess._

 

Damara held her breath for brief moment, every last ounce of courage she possessed coalescing within her. This was the moment of truth. Catching as much air as she could she let out her call.

 

**“CAH-CAH-CA-CA!!!”**

 

For a brief moment neither spoke. Rufioh stood silent, his face dumbstruck.

 

Damara stood in anticipation, her face a deep red and her arms bent at the elbows as she rested her hands on her hips. She was panting.

 

_Oh god I look stupid don’t I? Say something Rufioh. Say something you dorky fool._

 

Slowly a grin creeped upon his face, then slowly transformed into a wide smile. He rushed to Damara, his face now one of amazement and joy.

 

“YOU DID IT! YOU CROWED!” His hands gripped her shoulders and shook her gently in excitement. Damara exploded in relief and happiness and bounced off the floor. The two screamed in jubilation and danced about the hut, their arms raised in triumph.

 

“I LOST WEEABOO NOW?” Damara asked.

 

“You damn right you are! Oh man this is great Damara! You did it! You’re a weeaboo! Oh man, this is. Just. Bang-Ar-Rang!”

 

Damara squealed in joy, her eyes closed and her hands trembling. She had done it. After weeks of fruitless effort, she had finally done it.

 

But this was merely part one of her plan completed. Calming herself a bit, she put the next stage into motion. Rufioh continued to dance and blabber on about plans for an official ceremony. Grabbing his attention, Damara grabbed him by the collar and bite her lip nervously.

 

“RUFIOH. SOME ELSE TO SAY.” She said. Rufioh stood quiet and waited for her words.

 

“I. I.” Her voice trembled. Try as she did, the words refused to come. She gripped his clothes tighter. “I. L-L-lo. I Luv…”

 

“What? You what Dams? You can tell me. You can tell me anything Damara. You know you can trust me.”

 

Her heart pounded hard within her, she felt cold and mentally begged for the words to come forth. Her eyes were wide open and her lips quivered. All color faded from her face.

 

“I.” She gulped and after a deep inhale, let it all out.

 

“I Love you…”

 

For a minute neither said a thing. Their faces held frozen in place as if time itself stopped. As Damara waited for a response she panted, the silence so palpable her heart’s beating could be nearly heard.

 

At last Rufioh broke the tension.

 

“Damara, woah. I. I don’t know what to say.”

 

_Please say you love me back._

 

“This is all pretty heavy stuff to lay on a guy ya feel me?” Rufioh’s head rocked side to side, his hand rubbing to the base of his neck.

 

Her grip slacked and Damara let her arms fall, all feeling fading from her. He didn't love her. She had made a mistake. She felt foolish for telling him, and after how happy they had both felt only moments ago.

 

“I mean, it’s just. Well. I've kinda felt the same towards you. To be honest.”

 

Damara perked from his words. Slowly a hopeful smile began to form on her lips. Did he really feel the same after all? Had her fears been unfounded all along?

 

“Do you. Feel same?” She said, her words timid and faint. Her hands gripped one another and held close to her chest.

 

Rufioh bit his lip and cast his gaze upwards. He mulled over his words. Uncertain of exactly what to tell her. The truth was that Rufioh did care for Damara, more than as a friend in fact. Though was it love he felt? He was uncertain. He did feel something of a connection when with her, some more than platonic feelings of affection though never really knew exactly what to make of it and so never gave it much thought. 

 

But confronted with her admission, he wondered what to make of his own feelings towards her. He felt, something. That much was sure. He nigh constantly felt a desire to make her happy and whenever he did he would feel content. What’s more when he saw her he felt some strong intense pang of interest in her, some feeling of wanting to be around or with her as often as he could. When she smiled he would involuntarily as well. When she laughed, it warmed his heart.

 

Why he’d even fantasize occasionally of being her matesprite, yet even that was never something he took too seriously, more a passing thought to then willfully forget later.

 

Yet other times he’d merely see her as a very good and close friend. Nothing romantic, yet still intense.

 

He was uncertain. He felt something that was love, yet not _exactly_ quite there. It was in a limbo of sorts. Something that grazed its surface yet didn't touch. Like a hand that hesitated yet still desired something precious.  What it was he couldn't give a name to, and it racked his brain trying to figure it out.

 

He looked back to Damara. She awaited his response. Rufioh thought hard and dredged through his mind for the right answer. A situation like this was not something to pick one’s words lightly. He thought of every moment he had felt passionate about her, and examined how he had felt, trying to pin down his exact thoughts and emotions during each time.

 

As he looked at her, his own heart ached at the sight of her anxiousness. He didn't want to hurt her. Not even a little. He knew then what he felt, and made his choice.

 

“Damara. I love you too.”

 

Damara’s mouth hung agape. Then it turned back into a smile. She lunged at Rufioh and hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go. She felt happy, more so than she had ever had in her whole life. She felt a rush of the most intense joy wash over her. So much so it filled her with a great overwhelming energy. She wanted to do something to show her affection and gratitude. Her heart felt tired and her eyes sore and she wanted to cry, not out of sorrow but out of joy and relief.

 

Rufioh suddenly held her by the chin, his other hand wiping her face clean.

 

“Come on Damara, this is supposed to be a happy moment right?” Damara did not realize at first what Rufioh was doing but then realized. She was crying, so overcome up in her happiness she had actually begun to cry.

 

“love you! Love you!! love you!!!” She said back to him, bouncing jubilantly, her happy tears flowing freely now. Without warning she grabbed Rufioh by the back of his head and brought him down to hers and kissed him deeply.  After their lips parted she hugged him once more.

 

Rufioh could not help but cry himself, he had been uncertain then if he had made the right choice, but upon seeing his Damara so joyous and uncommonly blissful, all doubts washed away. He did love her. And if not fully, not completely, then he knew that over time he would. They already knew each other well, now they could truly become something more, something grander and more intimate.

 

“This mean. Matesprites?” She asked him.

 

“Yes.” He replied. He wiped his face free and did the same for Damara. The two then rested on his couch, collecting their thoughts as well as planning Damara’s official initiation ceremony. But whatever they did, they did so drinking in each other’s company. They rested and held one another, savoring the feeling of each other’s warmth and mutual happiness.

 

And for one brief moment before they left to celebrate, they sat there in silence, no words, no kisses. Just the two of them drunk on love and affection.

 

As they left, that familiar feeling of vertigo that accompanied her remembrances in the dreambubble resurfaced and her environment changed once again. 

 

 

 

She was in a great hall. Sitting on a stool nestled next to a long table with Rufioh parallel to her. It was some considerable amount of time after they had begun to date. A little over half a solar sweep by now.

 

As Rufioh had acted as the mentor to her, now it was Damara’s turn to impart wisdom. She had been teaching Rufioh her language. For the most part, he had taken to the effort decently enough, and could easily understand her as if they spoke the same language.

 

Actually speaking her language however, proved a far more fruitless task and even after months upon months of effort and training Rufioh could barely speak even the simplest of words. Damara persisted in her task though, yet her previous enthusiasm had drained by now and she felt more or less resigned to simply hold to their two language conversations out of pragmatism.

 

“<I still don’t understand why this is so difficult for you. I mean the grammatical rules and syntax are not that different from your language. Or at least not enough that you would struggle so much. And yet here we are. The same lesson as last week. And the two previous ones as well.>” She spoke with a dual tone of exhaustion and amusement.

 

“Well in all fairness hon, you can’t speak my language all that well either.” Rufioh teased back, his shoulders shrugging.

 

“<A fair point.>” She conceded. Damara rested her head on a perched hand, her other was gently caressing Rufioh’s own and she looked at him with a sense of longing and love.

 

“<How about we cancel the rest of today’s lesson? Yes?>” She asked.

 

“Yeah sure sounds like a good idea. Don’t think I’m gonna get very far anyway.”

 

Damara then lifted her head from its rest and brought her hands near herself, her expression shifted to a more playfully sinister smile and she steepled her fingers in a fashion that suggested a plot in the works.

 

“<So. My cute and sexy student. Have you any plans for the rest of the day? I was thinking that we could spend some personal time together. Maybe play some games. Watch a really obscure anime. And then later perhaps more intimate activities?>” She said. Both her eyebrows wiggled to further add to her words in case Rufioh was any bit uncertain of her intentions.

 

Rufioh stroked his chin and held his gaze upwards. He gave out a low _hmm_ noise and contemplated a response.

 

“Yeah Damara, I’d love to. In fact I have a little something to suggest!” Rufioh raised a pointed hand as he spoke, aiming it towards Damara. He seemed particularly eager, as if he had been waiting for a chance to speak of something of great interest to him.

 

“<Oh? And what would that be? Don’t shirk on any details.>” Damara said, her interest peaked. She leaned towards him, mildly excited to hear his response. Rufioh’s posture lowered, his elbow brought to the surface of the table and his mood became colored by a secretive air. He neared his face towards

Damara and spoke in a whisper, though whether it was to build suspense or because he held something truly important she couldn’t quite tell. He gave a thin smile and creased his brow.

 

“You ever hear of Sgrub?” He said. Damara raised a lone eyebrow and distanced herself, a sense of curious interest coating her behavior.

 

“<Sgrub? No I haven’t. Why?>” She said as she brought herself back.

 

“Well apparently it’s some really good game, also really secret.”

 

“<How secret?>” Damara whispered, now very eager to know.

 

“Secret enough that only a handful of copies exist.” Rufioh answered. Damara brought a lone hand to her chin, her mood now inquisitorial. Rufioh was never one for playing games such as this and his little act had Damara curious yet a tinge bit cautious for reasons she couldn’t quite grasp. Though she knew nothing yet, there was just something off about this she felt.

 

“<And yet somehow, you managed to obtain one?>” She said, a faint hint of incredulousness accenting her tone.

 

“Weellll.” Rufioh rubbed his neck nervously, his mood now uneasy yet still teeming with a desire to tell. Already Damara knew she wouldn’t like his answer. “Kinda.” He said back curtly.

 

“<Kinda?>”

 

“Well, you see, I didn’t get it myself. A friend did.”

 

“<What friend?>” Damara asked coldly. Rufioh darted his gaze and twiddled his fingers. A small bead of sweat pooled down his brow and he seemed almost embarrassed at what he was to say. The sudden change in his demeanor had Damara on edge, yet caused her to hang off his every word. Though still cautious she was now more curious than ever to learn about this game and leaned towards him again, listening intently for his response as her eyes narrowed.

 

“Meenahpeixes.” Rufioh blurted out after a brief pause. Damara’s eyes widened in shock and briefly wondered if she had heard him correctly.

 

“<The heiress? Er- Former heiress? How the hell do you know her? And what the hell is she doing giving you a game?>” Damara asked incredulously. As expected Rufioh looked embarrassed and gave out a wide forced smile.

 

“Well we met a few sweeps back and it’s all sorta complicated and long and I don’t really feel like going into detail about that. Uh, let’s just say she has a weird way of just deciding she wants to be your friend and then sorta making you go along with it without actually making you go along with it. Ya get me?” Damara nodded in acknowledgement. She wasn't truly certain what to make of his word, the whole situation seemed utterly preposterous, especially the quietly glaring tidbit of the former-to-be Empress being a friend of her matesprite. How such a rather large detail had escaped her left her feeling mildly slighted yet more amazed by the utter enormity of it. And based off Rufioh’s awkward mood regarding the girl, Damara felt it best not to press the issue further. She had heard the girl possessed of an abrasive grandiose personality; Rufioh’s stilted answer seemed to confirm it. Yet still, there was the pressing issue of the game. If the former heiress was involved, then it must be important.

 

“<Okay, forget the heiress for a moment. What about his game? What’s it about?>” Damara asked.

 

“No clue really.” Rufioh said back. “Peixes says it’s somefin-uh-something really big. Like groundbreaking big. Says it can apparently grant wishes or something like that? I haven’t been briefed on everything but she said she’s gathering a team of players.” Rufioh’s tone shifted back to a more uneager one again and he restored his broken smile.

 

“And well, she asked me if I knew anyone who would be willing to join. And. Well. Hehe, I guess I thought of you.” Though Damara wanted to feel flattered, Rufioh’s apprehensive tone stifled such feelings and made her cautious again. There was something wrong about this she felt, as if some conman was attempting to scam her into something she knew was wrong, yet just couldn't quite place what. Anything involving the infamous heiress was bound to be trouble.

 

“<And dare I guess, there are conditions to this request?>”

 

“Yes.” Rufioh said. His face now bereft of humor, even forced. Damara’s head leaned on her perched hands and put up a dulled amused grin.

 

“<And what would those be?>” Damara asked. Rufioh licked his lips, his bated breath filling the pause with extra intensity.

 

“She ordered me to join her. Gave a royal decree and all that.” He finally answered. “So I sorta have to play.”

 

“<Can she even do that anymore? I thought she abdicated?>”

 

“I guess? I honestly have no clue whats up with it all. I think the whole situation is still being figured out and such. Point is she told me to find someone to join and then play with. And well I figured if nothing else, this might be a good way for us to do something together.”

 

Damara furled her brow and mulled over Rufioh’s response. Truth be told, she was interested. Though the heiress always brought trouble to any situation she involved herself in, and this game would be no exception, Damara was nonetheless curious about it. Questions paced her thoughts. What was this game even about and what would she and Rufioh do? He had said it granted wishes, though that could have just been hyperbole on the heiress’ part of even full blown lies. She couldn't know. But didn't care. If she took part then she’d find out anyway and if it proved false then at least she and Rufioh would get some interesting stories to tell out of the deal. And as an added bonus, she could then always claim to have met the infamous former Empress-to-be Meenah Peixes herself. And what a boon to her gossiping such a thing would make.

 

“<Who else is gonna play?>” Damara asked, her question inflected with a hint of renewed interest.

 

“Some other friends of mine, and friends of theirs and a few people I don’t know. I think twelve in all based on what she’s saying.” Twelve people. It was a large group for just a simple game, even a secretive one such as this, Damara figured. She wondered then of their identities and personalities. Who were they? Most of Rufioh’s friends in the Lost Weeaboos she already was familiar with to varying extents. Yet any outside, she held only a glancing knowledge of. And of those, she wondered if any of them were to be one of the twelve to join in this endeavor.

 

Whatever the case, Damara figured it didn't matter. She and Rufioh would play this game, they’d delve it’s secrets, she’d make new friends, and they’d all have a good time of it. She rose and shrugged her shoulders.

 

“<You know what? Let’s do it.>” She said, certainty in her words.

 

“Really? Like you really mean it?”

 

“<Yeah.>” Damara returned, giving him a dismissive wave of the wrist along with an eased smile. “<This whole thing sounds interesting as hell to be honest. The way I see it, if the Heiress is telling the truth, then we’ll get a free wish. And if not, then it’s a free game. Either way, we win.>”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good point!” Rufioh said, his mood now brightening. “Okay, so we’re both in. I’ll let her know later tonight.”

 

“<Good. Honestly, I think I’m really excited for this. Though a bit nervous.>” Damara said as she looked at Rufioh with that familiar glint of anxiousness that silently asked you’ll be there for me right? To which Rufioh returned with a comforting grasp of her palms between his and a sympathetic. “Don’t be Damara. You’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know. Stronger then even me.” he said, his words put her tensed nerves at ease.

 

“<This all sounds so mysterious, so… So… I don’t know. It sounds like something, that much I can say.>”

 

“Yeah. I feel ya doll. But I think we’ll be fine. I mean as long as we work together I think we’ll come out alright. And besides, like how bad could this game be anyway?” Rufioh said.

 

As before, the familiar feeling of vertigo began to distort Damara’s senses, reflecting another change of the dreambubble. It was three days later this time. In all that time, nothing really important of note had occurred. Damara had mostly gone about her typical routines, all in wait for word from Rufioh about what to do next.

 

 Then at last, after agonizing over what was to come throughout those three days, Rufioh could finally relay their dual mission. Returning from whatever congress he and the ex-heiress had engaged in, Rufioh seemed his usual awkward self mixed with the undercurrent of faux courage. Though there was this time, a peculiar foreboding air to him that Damara just could not place. He seemed… Almost resigned, as if a convict awaiting the noose. Exactly what he was resigned to Damara was unaware of.  The whole three days wait had put her on edge and slowly eroded her usual sense of certainty, and initially Damara had originally considered that Rufioh’s out of place mannerisms were all in her own mind.

 

Yet the weak force of his voice, more so out of exhaustion then his typical dorky personality, had pushed such considerations from her mind. The whole day since he returned he seemed out of it slightly and Damara felt worried.

 

“<Maybe you should rest? You look unwell.>” She had said to him when she finally realized it wasn’t all just her senses paying tricks on her. Yet Rufioh would have none of it. He was determined it seemed to play this game, whatever trouble clouded his thoughts.

 

“I’m fine. Really I am. Peixes is just really draining is all.” He had said to put her worries at ease. Yet Damara had not fully bought his word, but also did not wish to press it further. She accepted it, whatever her concerns and hoping to erase such fears from her mind as well as potentially put whatever seemingly plagued Rufioh to rest, asked about the upcoming game.

 

He looked pensive at first. His hand brought to his chin as he mulled over a proper response.

 

“Well. We’re gonna need two grubtops. One for a server and one for client.” He finally said.

 

“<Okay. Sounds simple. We’ll be each other’s client and server or whatever.>” Damara said, though Rufioh raised a hand in protest.

 

“Yeah…” He said with a trace of hesitation to his words. “About that. We can’t be each other’s server and client. The game won’t allow that.”

 

“<Why not?>” Damara asked. Rufioh shrugged. “It due to how the game works with multiple players. I Gotta be someone’s server, and I’ll be someone else’s client. It’s like some stupid ring of sorts.”

 

“<This sounds needlessly complicated.>” Damara sighed in annoyance. “<So I guess I’m someone else’s client and uh server?>”

 

“Yeah that’s how it’ll be. Also we’ll need to be in separate rooms I guess.”

 

“<What? Why?>”

 

“I honestly have no clue. Peixes has been skimpy on details. But what she says goes.” Rufioh said mildly frustrated, not with Damara but with the heiress’ evasive answers.

 

“<Fine. Whatever. We’ll do whatever we need to do to play this. No matter how obtuse and inconvenient it is. So when do we play?”

 

“Tonight.”

 

“<Wait tonight!?>” Damara snapped. “<You just came back! Can’t we spend some time together first?>”

 

“Sorry doll. The deadline is tonight. I know, I know. I want to wait a bit too, but Peixes gave me and the others an order and… well, whatever Peixes wants, she gets. Trust me. Best not to cross her.”

 

Damara sighed in resignation and slumped in her seat. Part of her had begun to wonder if perhaps she and Rufioh had made a mistake about this. This game didn't sound particularly all that fun anymore and seemed more a hassle then it was worth. Should they just cancel she wondered? But then again the heiress had given them an order. Whatever her current royal status, they couldn't exactly dismiss her.

 

Whatever her issues, Damara would just have to tolerate them. She fixed her posture.

 

“<Okay fine. We’ll play. Who are we going to play with respectively?>” She asked.

 

“I’ll be the client player for some guy named Horuss Zahhak. My server player will be a friend of mine; Porrim Maryam.”

 

“<And what of I?>” Damara chimed in.

 

“You’ll be with some guy called Mituna and another guy called Ampora. I think Mituna’s your server player and Cronus is your client.”

 

“<Sounds wonderful.>” She muttered sarcastically.

_____ _ _ _


	4. Two minutes to midnight

The remainder of the day had been spent filled with preparations for the pair’s entrance into Sgrub. Damara had borrowed a unused living hut for her workspace while Rufioh would use theirs. Once settled, the two went about waiting for word from the heiress as well as their copies of the game; Peixes had kept them to herself and would not release any till everyone was ready.

 

Until then, they found themselves stuck in a limbo of sorts. They had nothing else to do, yet couldn't very well start anything, lest Meenah call either. As she waited, Damara sat slumped in a not so comfortable weathered leather swivel chair. She had attempted at first to amuse herself by twirling herself on it, yet quickly grew board.  

 

Eyeing her trollian chat menu, she noticed a familiar friend currently online yet inactive, and with nothing else to do, clicked their tag.

 

_“Hello sexy. What is hanging?”_ She asked.

 

_“Oh hey doll?”_ Rufioh responded. _“Just waiting, like you.”_

 

_“Dear goodness I am so dreadfully bored. Do we have to do this? This doesn't seem a very fun game.”_

 

_“I know, but what Meenah says-“_

 

_“Goes.”_ Damara interrupted with a text of her own. _“Yes I know. I am just chatting for its own sake.”_

 

Though she smiled in contentment at having Rufioh to chat with, she still wished they could be each other’s co-op players. Even if this Mituna was nice, she still would have preferred her beloved matesprite.

 

Then a wicked devious idea popped into being. Briefly she held her eyes wide in shock at it, then narrowed them and grinned sinisterly at her own cunning.

_“Hey. You bored, correct?”_ She asked Rufioh. Grateful he couldn't see her in person.

 

_“Yeah. Why?”_

 

_“I have a most wonderful idea to pass the time! Care to guess what it is?”_

_“I have no clue. Tell me.”_

_“Would you like to fool around for a bit?”_ She asked him, her face now turning a darker shade of maroon as her smile widened.

 

_“What!? Now? You serious doll?”_

 

_“Yes I am. Totally serious.”_

 

_“Oh man. Damara I don’t know if now is a good time for this.”_

 

Damara grinned a thin smile, and gave out a light titter at her deviousness.

 

_“Oh? And why not? We have nothing else to do. I can do all the work if you wish.”_

 

_“Oh man. Oh man. You really don’t need to do anything.”_

 

_“Hmm. Oh but why not? Though I admit teasing you is its own reward.”_

 

_“You are mean, doll.”_ Rufioh typed back.

 

_“No I am not.”_ She said, searching her browser as she did. Soon finding what she was looking for, Damara saved the image and sent it without warning to Rufioh, grinning like a Cheshire cat at her little prank.

 

_“Now I am mean.”_ She typed.

 

_“Oh whats this? Something enticing I hope?”_ Rufioh responded. For a brief three seconds, Damara received no response from him and waited for his reaction. Tormenting Rufioh like this was uncommon of her, yet it felt curiously fun. And she was certain that Rufioh enjoyed it whatever expense he paid.

 

_“OH GOD DAMARA. THAT IS NOT ENTICING. God damnit I nearly fell out my seat.”_ He responded. Damara began to laugh, struggling to stifle her giggling, her efforts only serving to strength them. After a good minute of hearty laughing, she continued her chat.

 

_“I am sorry. But I cannot help myself. I hope you don’t mind.”_

 

_“Nah. I admit that was funny actually.”_ He typed back.

 

Damara smiled warmly and then deviously as another, more naughty idea came upon her. She straightened her red vest out and using the built in camera device, took a snapshot of her smiling as cutely as she could manage, then sent it to Rufioh.

 

_“My would you look at this kawaii girl. Damara you have got to see this pic this really cute girl just sent me! She looks like a total keeper. I think you might have some stiff competition even!”_ He typed. Though she could not see his face, Damara was sure Rufioh was smiling at his little playfulness.

 

Biting her lip, Damara then put her next little step into motion. Though feeling slightly nervous, she undid the buttons of her vest and unclasped the back band and let it slide free, exposing her now bare chest. Giving her best sultry look, she took another picture and after clothing herself once more sent it to Rufioh, feeling a sudden rush of excitement as she did.

 

This time it took him more than three seconds to respond. For nearly a whole minute the chatlog stood frozen and Damara sheepishly yet complementary wondered if perhaps Rufioh had chosen to do more than ogle her little gift.

 

Finally he did at last respond.

 

_“Damara. You win. I have nothing I can beat that with.”_ He typed. His complement sent Damara’s confidence soaring and she felt inclined to do more.

 

_“Oh I am certain there is something of yours you can beat with that. Remember my dear matesprite, I will always hold the upper hand with you. Though I can do more with them if you ever feel inclined…”_ She typed back, her face flushed at her perversity.

 

_“Oh now don’t be thinking you’re immune yourself Damara. I got my ways of getting under your skin as well.”_

 

_“Really now? Enlighten me then of your supposed ways.”_ Damara typed playfully.

 

_“Well did you know that you’re the cutest thing when you blush?”_

 

Damara squealed involuntarily and bit her lip, she loved when Rufioh called her cute.

 

_“I am not. Cease with such discussion.”_ Damara typed, yet Rufioh refused her hollow request and continued his teasing barbs.

 

_“Yes you are. You are cute and adorable and I <3 you dearly. And that is all there is to say on that matter.”_

 

_“Very well, I will concede your most well thought out point and agree that we have come to a stalemate on these flirtations. Also you have a lovely ass.”_

 

_“Yours is better I think. But thanks!”_ He responded back. Damara covered the side of her face and smiled warmly. Then, getting another perverse and exciting idea, stood from her chair and began to pull her skirt down.

 

Another hour passed, and still no sign or word from the heiress, though neither took notice, having opted to continue their flirtations both sensual and romantic; though Damara held a far greater advantage in the former than latter. Choosing to send Rufioh increasingly lewder pics with the occasional joke image to throw him off periodically. It was fun, exciting, and Damara could not get enough of it. Though she and Rufioh were no strangers to each other’s bodies, having consummated their flushed red relationship before, there was simply something about this act that pulled forth an adrenaline surge of sorts from her. It was something new and the unknownness of it made her eager to experiment and push her boundaries. She didn't know exactly why she found it so entertaining; she had had far more rigorous fun with her matesprite before. But perhaps the sheer supposed naughtiness of it made it all the more enticing to her than it otherwise would have been. It made her dare herself to go one step further, and each self imposed boundary she passed gave her an intense high of sorts stronger than any tingle of physical sensation she felt as she posed for Rufioh.

 

Before long another hour had passed and Damara had sent Rufioh a veritable collection of smutty photos of herself. Once she had finished the last, she buttoned her shirt back up, her hands trembling with excitement. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest, and her appearance was now disheveled, loose strands of hair obscuring her vision, her hair bun now undone. Her skirt hung from her knees and shook as her legs shuddered. Her chest heaved in and out and in that moment she felt a fire set ablaze in her veins, like a lit match dropped on a trail of gasoline. As she slumped in her seat, a content toned sigh leaving her lips, she giggled in amusement as the realization of what she had just done began to fully hit her. Yet she was neither embarrassed nor ashamed. She felt excited and giddy instead. Damara wondered then if Rufioh had amused himself in any ways at her little exposé and smiled deviously at the thought.  Rising to the keyboard she typed out a fresh sentence.

 

_“hehe. Now remember my little darling matesprite, that little peepshow is private. Do not show those to anyone lest I do something in retaliation.”_ She typed, her words carrying a sense of minor faux threat to them.

 

_“Oh don’t worry Damara. These will remain our little thing. I will keep them locked in a special hidden place where no one but me will ever find them.”_ Rufioh typed back.

 

_“I mean it Rufioh.”_ Damara typed, her former sense of modesty now beginning to surface once more. _“Those are private. Put those someplace well hidden please. I don’t want anyone save you to see them. Okay?”_

 

_“I understand. Uh, still though. I can’t believe you did all that. You’re almost never that aggressive.”_

 

_“Well. Let us just say that I am feeling particularly frisky. For reasons even I do not fully understand.”_

 

_“well, whatever it is, good job. Uh, I guess. Man that sounds weird to say doesn't it?”_

 

_“Perhaps. But either way, it is amusing to me. So tell me... Did you pleasure yourself to any of them?”_

_“Oh god, Damara.”_

 

Before Rufioh could respond further, a new chat member flashed on her menu. It was Meenah. Damara cursed the intrusion of the heiress into her personal fun with Rufioh, and finished fully clothing herself once more. She waited for a response yet none surprisingly came though she suspected that the heiress was chatting with Rufioh instead of her.

 

As expected, she had. Shortly after her arrival Rufioh chimed in to get her up to date on the situation.

 

_“Yo Damara, it’s time. As a heads up, we can’t be dawdling about anymore. Gotta be real quick, ya feel me?”_

 

_“Yes I understand. Tell me what to do.”_ She responded.

 

_“Okay, I’m gonna send you the game file, then you install it. As it does, contact your server and client player and then, uh, play. I guess.”_ Rufioh said.

 

_“That’s all?”_ Damara asked.

 

_“That’s all. I guess. We’ll know more as the situation occurs I think. Mituna should know, Meenah says he’s our tech guy. Just listen to him and I think we’ll get though this alright.”_

 

_“Very well then. Best of luck love.”_ Damara said.

 

_“You too doll.”_ Rufioh responded.

 

Sure enough, it came forward and instantly Damara clicked the game icon, her screen lighting up shortly afterwards with a constantly shifting spiral orb in the center as the game took hold over her grubtop. As she did, her chat tags lit up with a new assortment of players, instantly filling the chat room. Though none of them she could determine the identity of.

 

_“Rufioh, how do I tell who is who? I don’t know these people.”_ She typed.

 

_“Shit, my bad. Mituna is TroublesomeArticulator and Ampora is CrucioAbracadabra.”_

 

Damara searched for their titles and upon finding both clicked them.

 

_“Uh greetings? You are Mituna I presume?”_ She typed sheepishly.

 

_“Fucking shittits what a babe. Man we have some rocking girls on this team. Are you dating? Can I see your tits?”_ He responded back.

 

_“I beg your pardon?!”_ Damara responded.

 

_“Sorry. Yeah whatever I’m Mituna. Just do whatever I say, understand?”_

 

_“Um very well. What do I need to do?”_

 

_“Is your game installed yet?”_ He asked her.

 

_“Not yet.”_

 

_“Damn what a piece of crap you’re using. You should get something better and not whatever shitty ass rig you have now.”_

_“I don’t exactly have the money for anything high quality…”_

 

_“Whatever. It’ll have to do. Hey turn off your inter-web security for a sec.”_ He said back.

 

_“Why?”_ Damara asked.

 

_“Just do it damnit.”_

 

Letting out an irritated sigh, Damara did as he requested. Not really seeing what the point of his request but not wishing to invoke the rude troll’s ire. Already this introduction was wearing thin and it hadn't even been more than a few minutes. If this was how he was to act the whole game, then she’d have to find some way of switching to another server player if possible. And failing that, then a way to dull the migraine he now caused.

 

_“There. It is done. Now what?”_ she asked, now feeling slightly impatient. She looked to the loading screen, now half-way done and prayed for it to finish more quickly. As if empathetic to her whims, the bar suddenly shot towards the end and even more curiously, a fresh batch of previously nonexistent software programs were now present on her desktop.

 

_“Wait! What happened? What did you do? What is all this?”_ She asked.

 

_“Calm down. I just upgraded your shit-rig. Now you should be able to run it almost half way decently. Though it’s still a piece of shit. Also I just gave you a bunch of free shit to help with the game. There should also be a folder labeled ‘free haxs’. That contains all the crap I just sent. Give that to whoever your client is so we can all have it. Understand?”_

 

_“Oh yes. I do. Thank you very much. This looks all quite helpful.”_ She said back, her previous feelings of annoyance now fading. Perhaps this Mituna was better then she’d given him credit for.

 

_“Hey, so can I see your tits now then for all that?”_

 

_“NO!”_ Damara typed back. Her animosity towards him now resurfaced and even more intense.

 

_“Come on! Maybe your ass then at least?”_

 

_“As before. NO!”_

 

_“Oh hold on a sec? What have we here? Hmm. Nevermind babe. Thanks for the free shit!”_

 

_“What the hell are you talking about?"_  Damara asked him, her face now one of confusion mixed with annoyance. Her hands circled her temples as she struggled to keep her strained patience.

 

_“Whatever. Talk to your client.”_

 

_“What?”_

 

_“YOUR. CLIENT. Talk. to. them. Do you understand west beforan? Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth?”_

 

_“Oh god just shut up! Yes I understand your words, idiot. I just don’t understand what you mean exactly.”_

 

_“Then doesn't that mean you don’t understand?”_ He shot back.

 

_“Oh god you are going to drive me insane. No, I mean exactly what do you want me to do? Do I just talk to them and send them programs? Do I need to do anything else?”_

_“Sorry. I’ll explain this more clearly then. Yes talk to them, and yes send them files. As their server player you will be able to see them and interact with their hive assuming they installed their game. You will help them through the game. Just like how I’ll help you through the game. A server player helps build shit like game constructs and building material and other stuff using game resources which we will obtain in time. Hey look behind you by the way.”_ Damara turned around and was shocked and surprised to see a floating mustard yellow mouse icon in the shape of the sgurb logo floating in mid air.

 

_“What the hell is that? Is that your doing?”_

 

_“Kinda. It’s what I, the server player, use to manipulate shit in your hive. You can do the same with whoever your client is. Now a client, which in our case is you, is free to complete objectives and whatever quests the game sends you. As the game progresses I’ll explain more. Now go talk to them.”_ He mercifully explained at last, causing Damara to give out a relief filled sigh. Then her eyes widened in horror as a realization hit her.

 

_“Wait. You can see me?”_ She asked, her heart almost stopping at the thought.

 

_“Yeah. What of it? Not like I can see your panties or anything. Or can I…?”_ Almost immediately Damara crossed her legs and struggled to pull as much of her skirt down as she could without revealing herself.  Her face flushed embarrassingly and she begged for this moment of hell to just end already.

 

_“Nah. Looks like I can’t. Whatever. You can uncross your legs. Now go talk to your client. I gotta do some shit. With my server player. Out bitches.”_

 

Damara felt exhausted. Not more than twenty minutes into this game and already she felt as if it had been a short eternity. Dredging forth whatever reserve of willpower and energy she had left, she clicked on Ampora’s troll tag and hoped for better introductions then her last had been.

 

Appearing on her screen was a new chat window for her and this Ampora character as well as a small screen displaying his room with him in it from a distance. In the screen was a lime green menu of sorts with an assortment of buttons. In the corner was a magnifier spectacle icon that allowed her to zoom in and out, a set of four arrow buttons that changed what part of the present room she was currently focused on, and a dual set of rotating icons that changed the perspective of said room.

 

Running along the upper edge of the screen were further icons though seemingly more complex in nature and equally confusing and unknowable to her. Not wishing to incur a potential accident, Damara refrained from tampering with them and instead settled for chatting with Ampora for now.

 

Sitting on a wooden chair in front of a desk with a violet grub-top in the room’s corner was the proverbial man himself. Clad in some black wool cloak with a red and orange scarf tied around his neck, a black vest and matching striped red-and-orange tie, a messy set of hair and a pair of rectangular glasses, Ampora carried a bookish look about him that Damara found most curious. Surrounding him were various magically themed paraphernalia that she’d seen in fantastical tales and movies such as wooden broomsticks, magic wands and posters of wizened wizards possessed of deep contemplative stares as if they stood in wait, ready to cast judgment on their audience and its worth.

 

Already Damara found this Ampora character to be mildly fascinating, yet humorously dorky. Like Rufioh and held out hope that he’d prove a far superior conversational partner than the crude Mituna had been. She began their chat, eager to get on with the game in earnest now.

 

“Hello?” She typed. “I am Damara. I shall be your server player.” She stated.

 

_“Oh hey, about time. I was about to think you had died or something. Nice to meet you Damara. I’m Cronus.”_ He responded.

 

_“Oh, Cronus? I was lead to believe your name was Ampora.”_ She said back.

 

_“That’s my last name. Cronus Ampora is the full name.”_

 

_“Ah well I’ll take care not to forget it. Very well then Cronus, a pleasure to meet you. I am Damara Megido and I shall be your server player. That means I can see you and where ever you’re currently located at. What’s more I guess I can control your surroundings too? I’m still not quite sure yet, this game is very confusing.”_

_“Damara Megido huh? What a lovely sounding name. It'll be a pleasure to play with someone as nice as you.”_

 

Damara blushed and averted her gaze for a second in embarrassment. She smiled warmly at his comment and continued their conversation.

 

_“Oh my. Thank you I guess. Um, oh yes! You shall be my client player. That means that as I watch you play and help you build… Something. You walk around and complete objectives. And fight things? I don't know, I’m not sure. I have not really been informed of anything in great detail yet.”_

_“Hmm. Well don’t fear m’lady. As a mighty and experienced wizard, I am well versed in combat. Nothing shall best my most supreme skills!”_

 

Damara raised a brow at his comment. A wizard? What a peculiar thing she thought. Surely he was just playing with her.

 

_“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude but what do you mean wizard? As in roleplaying?”_ She asked.

 

On the view screen Cronus looked insulted at her query. His face furled in annoyance. He continued to type.

 

_“Nooooo. I don’t mean roleplaying. I mean as in honest to Merlin real and actual wizard. Like, with magic and shit.”_

_“oh. Uhhh okay then.”_

 

_“I am not joking around here!”_ He typed, his foot stomping the floor beneath. A prideful look came upon his face and he held his posture high as if posing for some grand portrait. Damara found it ridiculous and rolled her eyes.

 

_“I am the mighty wizard destined to do battle with he-who-shall-remain-anonymous, a powerful and dark lord that lay hidden behind the veil of death and time, who’s arrival into this realm will user forth in a time of great darkness and death as foretold by the wizened trout-conservationists magisters long ago. It shall be my duty to defeat this vile foe. Understand?”_ He typed.

 

Damara suppressed a snort at his absurd tale. Fish-talkers? A dark lord? Surely this boy had received a few nocks to the think-pan. But not wanting to seem rude, she decided to humor him.  

 

_“Sorry sorry. I apologize. I’ll take care to remember that.”_

 

_“Apology accepted. Heeeeeeyyyy. Would it be okay if I got to see what you look like? I mean I figure if we’ll gonna be in this together I should get to know what you looks like.”_

 

Damara thought his request over. She had just met this boy, showing her face to him seemed a bit too forward for her tastes. Yet weird as he was, he did seem mostly harmless, unlike Mituna. Hesitating, she cast her gaze upwards for a brief moment and not seeing any serious reason to refuse, decided to grant the boy his request. What harm could come of it anyway? She fiddled with the built in image grabber, snapping a simple pic of herself smiling and sent it to him.

 

_“Here it is.”_ She typed.

 

Cronus looked intently at it and gave out an interested look afterwards.

 

_“Well, aren't you a cutie.”_ He replied.

 

_“oh stop. You flatter me.”_ She typed in amusement as she waved a lone hand at the screen.

 

_“I mean it. You’re a real cutie. Nice face and horns. Would be real nice to meet you in person. Maybe we could hang out and have some fun. Get to know each other? Be friends and all that.”_ He said. Damara snorted in amusement and smiled.

 

_"Hey! Why don't I send you a pick as well?"_ He asked.

 

_"But I can already see you!"_ She replied.

 

_"Yeah but I look terrible. I'll give you something better to look at."_ Sure enough after fiddling with his computer, she received one. Cronus was dressed in a black buttoned wool long coat. His undershirt a lavender suit with black tie. His hair was slicked back and glistened in the light. His arms were crossed and he held a stern yet smug look upon his face. As if certain of his greatness. Damara thought it was silly.

 

Then, remembering Mituna’s orders, gave Cronus something else.

 

_“Oh yes! I forgot. I am supposed to give you something. It’s some game files that will 'supposedly' help us.”_ Damara clicked on Cronus’s chattag and clicked the send program, gifting him the files.

 

_“I don’t know exactly what this all does. I haven’t looked at it myself. Anyway. We should cease dawdling. Time to play.”_

 

Damara opened the folder. Its contents were a assortment of gibberish files and programs with nondescript names such as **“hdehegsjf”** and **“fIl3s en 5H1T”**. At its top was a word file titled **“0P3N_F1R5T”**. She did as it ordered.

 

Contained within was a set of orders informing her, rather crudely at that, on how to proceed. The orders stated her need to build a device called a cruxtruder once the game’s installation was completed, then another called an alchemiter and another referred to as a totem lathe as well as describing their general purpose. She was to build her client player the cruxtruder first which would upon being struck, release a sprite of some sort, which she was to toss various objects at in order to facilitate its transformation. Following that she and her client would then use a special item called a captchalogue card to enter into the lathe and craft a item referred to as a cruxite dowel which she and they were to place on the alchemiter which would make a special artifact.

 

Once that rather confusing and round-about act was completed the player would then smash the artifact, whatever it was, and then enter some realm called the medium. Reading the whole mess of a text gave Damara a headache though more so from the sheer confusion the game’s rules caused than from Mituna’s chaotic typos and method of typing.

 

_“Hey can you make head or tales of this shit Dams?”_ Cronus typed, similarly confused at the mental hell the game was causing. Interrupting her train of thought, a massive white colored device suddenly appeared behind her, nestled in a corner. Its base was a square blocky fixture resting under a second more roundish block with a counting timer at its base and a towering pole protruding upwards.

 

“<What the hell?!>” She yelled in surprise at its sudden spurt of existence.

 

_“Hey slow-ass. Got this shit in order. Now get yours. We only got so much time to get this through. Does your client have theirs yet?”_ Mituna suddenly chimed in.

 

_“What the hell is that? What do I do?”_

 

_“Didn’t you read my orders? What are you doing? Jerking off? Actually that wouldn't be so bad right now..”_

 

_“Stop saying such things you freak! And yes I have. Your typing quirk just makes it hard to read and is stupid. Like you are.”_

_“My quirk is not stupid! You are. Now quite diddling and deploy your client’s because I’m gonna assume you haven’t yet because you seem to move as slow as your think-pan works.”_

 

_“Fuck you!”_ Damara typed, her face red with anger as she grimaced.

 

_“Love to. From the looks of it you seem the kinky type. Bet you are with how you dress. Hey is it true what they say about east Beforan girls?”_

 

Damara exited the chat in a huff. Her mood now sour and her anger riled. Wanting to forget the mustard blooded bastard, she did as ordered. Rummaging through the game menu she located the device in question and clicked upon it. As she did more machines popped into existence in her hut. A fixture with a large circular base at its top with a scanning device attached to a movable machine arm, and another being a tall, slim complex looking device that seemed to serve as a carving machine, yet for what purpose she couldn't tell. Damara briefly wondered if she had built them, yet was reminded that only the Server player could manipulate the room itself and thus ignored that possibility. She placed the first device in Cronus room, returning her attentions to him.

 

Cronus’s reaction was similar to her own, and he too gave an equally bewildering response.

 

_“Hey what is this thing?”_ He asked, his face one of confusion.

 

_“Read the instructions please.”_ She responded curtly, her patience sapped by Mituna’s disgusting comments.

 

_“Okay, fine, whatever then. I mean not like I can read this shit or anything.”_

_"Sorry."_ Damara replied. Overcome by remorse. _"Just annoyed is all. I should not take it out on you."_

 

_"Hey, no problem."_ He replied. _"What's annoying you if you don't mind me asking?"_

 

_"One of my co-players. He's being very rude!"_

 

_"Man what a jerk. Well I promise you I am a perfect gentlemen. Don't need to worry about such things with me!"_

_"Thank you! You are very nice."_ She replied.

 

_"Aww. Thanks."_

 

_"Anyway, sorry to cut this short but we need hurry along with this game I think."_

_"Right away ma'am!"_ Chronus replied. Damara got to work.

 

Right as she did, Mituna took matters into his own hands, smashing open the top of the Cruxtruder. Springing forth from it was a shimmering maroon orb of light that blinded her. As her vision restored itself, she looked upon it, a sense of fear mixed with awe permeating her. She sat dumbstruck by it’s presence but was soon brought out of her stupor by Mituna batting her head with the corporeal floating cursor.

 

“<AGGH GOD STOP IT YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!>” She yelled at him. She returned to the chat, Mituna waiting.

 

_“WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING YOU SO LONG? HURRY THE FUCK UP DUMBASS. Do you not see that timer there!? We only have a few minutes before excrement hits the whirling device! Or is your eye sight as shit as your flat ass chest?”_

 

_“GOD JUST FUCK OFF ALREADY! I AM GETTING IT!”_ She replied, her face taught with anger. Damara nearly threw the keyboard against the wall, so intense was her ire now. Clenching her nails into her palms to calm herself she found her efforts only partially salved her wounded mood.

 

_“TOSS. SOMETHING. IN. TO. THE. SPRITE. YOU. DUMB. STUPID. SLUT.”_ Mituna typed.

 

“<Fine. You want me to toss something in? I’LL TOSS SOMETHING IN YOU ASSHOLE!>” She snapped. Damara ripped her grub-top mouse from it’s port and with great rage tossed it at the sprite. Yet the floating orb danced aside, the mouse missing it entirely and causing Damara to scream impotently at it for refusing to sate her flaring anger.

 

_“Not that you stupid bitch.”_ mituna chimed in. Damara ran to where the mouse had fallen and after inspecting to see if it still functioned, returned it to its proper place.

 

_“Fine then! What do I toss in?”_ She asked. Her rage cooled yet still simmering.

 

_“God, why must I do everything around here? Look for the program that says ‘GGUEjhd756yed’. Then click it.”_

 

Damara did as asked, a black colored menu with lime green trimming suddenly appearing before her. At its top were the words titled **‘alchahaxors’**. Streaming down its menu were horizontal rows of gibberish codes which gave no indication of their purpose like so many of the mustard blood’s gifts.

 

_“What is this?”_ She asked.

 

_“Move your mouse cursor over it and it should show you something. Click on that and then the alchemiter should make it. Then toss in two items and ONLY two. And be quick, time is a premium here!”_

 

Damara did as asked, quickly glancing at the timer before she did. Ten minutes and thirty seconds it read grimly, like some silent teacher waiting to fail or pass its students. Damara hurried along. Selecting a random code, she panickly tried to find something that matched the randomly forged standards she put on herself. She knew not if any of her decisions would matter or have any impact, but the ominous way the game was turning out to be sent her worrying. Surely she had to be careful, a choice of this nature would require discretion she thought, yet her panic gripped mind forced her to skim through most of the code, only glancing at whatever image flashed in and out of being. Finally, she settled on something that seemed vaguely decent and clicked, only just realizing after the fact that she had, much to her intense embarrassment, picked what looked to be a very graphic and phallic sex toy.

 

Damara rushed to the platform. Her face now a deeply blushed grimace. Awkwardly she held the dildo, desperately wishing she could will it away. Slowly she cast her gaze towards the shimmering sprite. It danced and hovered in mid air, small glittering sparkles cascading from its surface like a light misting rain.

 

With no other option before her, Damara tossed the vile thing and braced for the worst. Sure enough the two connected and a blinding light erupted silently from it. As it dimmed, a new form appeared before her. The sprite now a giant floating phallus. Damara’s eye twitched as she curled her lips upwards and the deepest sense of regret she’d ever felt took hold over her.

 

“<Oh god.>” She muttered in hushed tones. Wishing deeply to crawl into some hole and cease her existence then. Yet as before Mituna’s interruptions yanked her out of her ruminations and she refocused once more. This time she replayed Mituna’s methods, holding a large baggage trunk of Cronus’s possession and then dropping it over his Cruxtruder while also informing him of how to proceed next.

 

_“Hey careful with that!”_ He replied, his face one of anger.

 

_“No time to dawdle. Select a item from the code. Then toss it in.”_

_“So what do I pick then? I kinda need help here.”_ He asked. Inquiring about the cyber-alchemizer program Mituna had sent her.

 

_“Anything really. I don’t know. Just pick something and toss it in I guess.”_ She replied. Quickly returning her own attentions back to her game. As before she quickly rushed through the code, skimming through as she hoped her luck would be more abundant this time with whatever random pick she selected.

 

Flashing on the roundel, was a small porcelain figurine of a female pale skinned hornless alien. Placed between her index and middle was a rolled piece of paper burnt on it's edge. Her lips puckered outwards and her shirt said “blaze it” in big bold letters. Her left arm bent downwards as it rested on her hips while her other bent upwards. Damara stared at it for a brief second before wordlessly tossing it into the sprite, her care now utterly diminished. She had already made a fool of herself with her first dismal choice, what did this one matter now? As the sprite took in the figurine, it merged with it, accepting its features into its own as before. Once it’s quiet and sudden fusion had ceased, it showed its new form with a silent unassuming air to it, as if it cared not for the questionable choice of items its patron had granted it. Its new form was that of the alien women, her puckered lips frozen as before. Placed below her waist was a long ghost like tail that took up half its length. And most embarrassing of all, was a large sex toy placed in one hand.

 

Damara gazed at her sprite aghast. Her mouth hung agape in equal parts revulsion and bewilderment at what she had created. Not wishing to waste any further time nor dwell on the ghostly sprite, she returned to the computer.

 

_“Wow. I knew you liked some weird shit but don’t you think you’ll laying it on kinda thick here?”_

_“Stop it with that. What do I do next idiot?”_ She replied, what remaining patience she had now dead. Damara only wished to just end this nonsense by whatever means at this point.

 

_“There’s a special captcha card in your phernalia registry. I’m gonna select it and give it to you. Once I do that, use that with the totem lathe to carve your cruxite dowel. Then put that on the alchemiter and then break whatever artifact you get.”_ As promised, a small grey paper thin board with a red center appeared upon her lap. Embedded into it were various punch holes similar to that of a time card. In its center was an image of a maroon heart like that of the matesprite quadrant.

 

_“Oh yes. And once that timer ends, a giant meteor will come crashing down and kill you.”_

_“WHY DIDN”T YOU TELL ME THAT BEFORE!?”_ Damara responded. Her heart suddenly exploded in panicked beats.

 

_“Sorry. Must have slipped my mind. Good luck. Bitch.”_ Mituna’s tag went dark. Indicating his departure. Quickly Damara glanced at the timer. Only six minutes and two seconds remained.

 

“<SHIT!>” She barked. Damara raced to the lathe. Her hands fumbled as she struggled to force it into the slot. Gaining some control, she pushed it in. Yet nothing happened.

 

“<SHIT! SHIT!>” She screamed again. Her mind blunted by primal terror, she fumbled with the controls, randomly pressing buttons while she flipped switches to no affect. She glanced at her surrounding for some indication of what to do next. Hopeful that perhaps she’d grasp what missing link currently eluded her. She then remembered. The Cruxite dowel. She needed to carve it. But where would she get one? Mituna had said to use one, yet had neglected to provide any.

 

She scrambled through the hut, quickly scouring for something, anything that might be whatever the item in question was. But with no information to go on and her time now dangerously short, Damara felt an intense and powerful sense of dread overcome her. Her mind went blank with white hot fear as the impending realization that she was about to die finally hit her. She raced to the computer, desperate and barely hopeful that perhaps someone was still on whom could help her.

 

Alas none save for Cronus and her remained. She turned her gaze towards the timer; four minutes it read. She returned her attention to the screen and sobbed. She didn’t want to die. Not like this, not alone. She looked at Rufioh’s tag. Dull it was. Somehow, such a detail stung most of all. As if the idea that perhaps with him here, her final moments could possibly be tolerable. But to be bereft of his presence or even words hurt her. To not tell him how much joy he had brought her, how how much she truly, totally loved him, to succinctly articulate her love for him, to not even get to so much as say goodbye. It all stabbed at her heart and caused her to sob. She didn't care. Death was near, what did her appearance matter now?

 

She looked at Cronus through the view window. He had upgraded his own sprite already. But most curiously was examining a violet colored glassy vase shaped object.

 

_“Hey yo dams? You still there? I got my thing done, whatever the hell this floating little creep is. What the hell do I do next?”_ He asked. His attention focused on

 

_“I AM GOING TO DIE!!”_ Damara typed in response.

 

_“Oh. That is bad. Uh. Sorry. Oh yeah what the hell is this thing? I found it in that thing where the weird floating dingus next to me came from. What the hell do I do with this?”_

 

Almost instantly Damara understood. _That_ was the cruxite dowel.

 

_"Oh god thank you! That's exactly what I needed!"_

 

_"Oh. Well glad to help! What do I do though? No one has told me anything."_ he replied.

 

She jumped from her seat and raced to the cruxtruder, cranking a small nearly unnoticeable valve to the side of the jutting pole. Shortly after she started, a similar object to the one Cronus held sprung forth, though more round and tubular than his and maroon in color as well. She grabbed the object and sprinted to the lathe, jamming it into its proper place then shifting the slide near it. She slammed the card into the waiting slot and as the device whirled to life, the dowel was carved. Though shaped differently from that of Cronus’. Not wasting any further precious seconds she plucked it free and slammed it on the sensor platform of the alchemiter. As it scanned it’s cargo she quickly returned to the computer, informing Cronus of what to do next as coherently as her now limited time left her.

 

_“GOOD LUCK.”_ She said.

 

_"Hey! one more thing before you go!"_

_"What? We need to hurry."_

_"Well was just curious if you had a matesprite?"_

_"What!?"_ She said back, incredulous.

 

_"Figure when this is all over we could maybe date is all?"_

_"Yes I do actually, we're both playing right now in fact. Speaking of which..."_

 

_“Ohh so that’s how it is huh?”_ He responded, sending Damara into a state of confusion.

 

_“What? What do you mean?”_

 

_"I act all nice to you, complement you, help you when you're in danger, and you pull a fast one on a nice guy like me and make up some BS about a matesprite. Fucking whore."_ He said.

 

_"What!? You're pulling this now?"_ She replied.

 

_"Here I am trying to be a nice person and I get shat on for it! Well you're on your own. Bieee!"_ He said, cutting off communication. He went about finishing his steps.

 

Damara ignored him and returned her focus to the game. She looked at the timer.

 

One minute. Just one, faint, solitary minute remained, yet it seemed to stretch on to an eternity as her adrenal addled mind mixed with instinct and the threat of annihilation pushed her onwards. No time to waste now Damara thought. The scanner at last completed its task and forming from nothing was a small heart shaped stone, roughly large enough to be held by both her hands. It was placed on a glassy pedestal of the same color and materials and stood as tall as her waist, lying next to it were a cruxite arrow with a small one handed hammer.

 

Damara reached for the arrow and hammer and with a lack of any other ideas, primed the pointed chisel upon the heart’s surface; it’s arrow head ready to stab. She raised the hammer and with as fierce a blow she could muster, slammed it upon the blunt end of the chisel.

 

Yet nothing happened. She raised it once more and more forcefully, pounded the arrow. But again nothing. She glanced back at the timer. Thirty seconds it read. She raised it a third time and hit it more rapidly, trading power for speed. Yet still no progress; not even a light crack or sliver to be found.

 

_Twenty seconds._

 

Desperately, she hit the arrow, her efforts motivated by fear of death. Her arms burned with pain and soreness yet her mind ignored it. Refusing to let itself cease into oblivion. Damara, though quickly exhausted both mentally and physically, refused to give in.

 

_Fifteen seconds…_

 

Yet no matter her speed or power, her blows had no effect upon the heart’s surface. It continued to remain unblemished as if to mock her timidness. She grew despondent. She was too weak now, too tired to continue. As horrible a fate it was, accepting her death seemed all she could do now she felt.

 

_Ten seconds…_

 

Briefly, she thought then of Rufioh again. Of his smile and kind words, of all the moments they had shared. It all caused Damara to cry. She’d never see him again. She’d never experience any of it again. Dying here would mean the end to it all.

 

Then, like a fire reborn, she felt something from within her revive. Damara didn't want to lose that. Nor did she want to lose her life. She wanted to live and live with Rufioh and continue to experience that happiness and joy. She wanted to keep him.

 

That thought gave her a renewed vigor. Damara gathered what strength remained, adding the fuel of her love for Rufioh and her desire to live to it. In those brief, few remaining seconds she stoked the flames of her soul and body, demanding it give her one last ounce of strength, one last flicker of power before it was all over.

 

_Five seconds…_

 

Mustering it all, Damara brought the hammer upwards, grasped the handle as tight as her hand would allow and with as much force as she could still give, trust it down.

 

“<I! WANT! TO LIVE!!!!>” She cried out.

 

Almost instantly the arrow pierced the heart, spearing through it entirely. As it did, the heart cracked along the surface of where she struck and soon spread along to its edges in one single line till the heart was neatly bisected into two parts. Suddenly it glowed intently, its light blinding her. Instantly the whole hive-hut was enveloped by it. Damara fell to her bum and struck by terror, did nothing but wait. She felt her body become weightless as a feather as if the very atoms that formed it were lifted and then slowly separated.

 

All around her was a blinding white light that hummed in powerful exertion of some unseen force. It pervaded everything and anything, her senses overwhelmed till she too felt as if she was the light. Though she still could feel and think, she knew nothing of what was occurring. Yet she did not curiously feel fear. No, Damara felt an odd sense of comfort mixed with tinges of uncertainty. Not at if she had succeeded or failed, but at what was happening now.  

 

Soon the light dimmed and her vision was restored. She fluttered her eyes and looked around herself. She was still alive and her hut and all its environs and devices still stood untouched. Her peculiarly perverted sprite floated aimlessly. Suddenly a orb much like that she had encountered earlier split off from it, then further split into two duplicates, one white in color and the other black. They raced out of the hut in a hurry, off to parts unknown.

 

Her sprite stretched a lone arm out to her and beckoned her to follow. Damara did. She moved to her feet, and as she followed her sprite, she could then hear a most odd sound emanating from outside. It was a soft hum, a melancholic melody of metronomic strums mixed with the soulful beating of some whispering sound she couldn't identify.

 

As she left the hut she immediately ceased her movements and stared at her surroundings. All around her for vast miles were large crystalline structures of various sizes and shapes, each releasing a faint glow as they hummed. Stabbing out towards the sky from the ground was the occasional tower of brass and steel shaped into the form of large music boxes that curiously stood silent. As if they waited for some soul to tune them and let them join their crystalline comrades in their haunting refrain. Above her, the sky was dark like that of the birthing moments of night right as the moon began to take over the domain of the sky. Accompanying it was a faint glow of a purplish haze that stretched onward throughout the upper atmosphere like a wisping cloud of fluid intermingling with a denser liquid.  

 

Damara had arrived in the medium of Sgrub. Upon the Land of Quartz and melody.


End file.
